


Stars Shining Bright Above You

by zjofierose



Series: dream a little dream of me [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Communication, Conversations, Engagement, Feels, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loss, M/M, Post-Kerberos Mission, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Secret Marriage, Secret Relationship, Shotgun Wedding, Space Uncle Coran (Voltron), Supportive Coran (Voltron), True Love, but only in passing I promise, of keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 09:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22967704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose
Summary: They had... an understanding, Keith and Shiro, before Shiro left for the outer edge of the solar system. Years later, farther into the galaxy than either of them had ever dreamed, can they pick up where they left off?
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: dream a little dream of me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650592
Comments: 15
Kudos: 163





	Stars Shining Bright Above You

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to @quazydelasue for the beta, as always, and to @kettish for giving this thing a last minute once-over. xoxo
> 
> Happy Birthday, Shiro!

“Hey,” Shiro says from where he lies with his head resting on Keith’s stomach, Keith’s long, thin fingers rubbing absently at his undercut. “Let’s get married.”

Keith snorts from somewhere further up the bed and pauses his calm stroking to flick Shiro on the ear. “Don’t be an idiot,” he says, and Shiro pulls up onto his elbows so that he can stare down at Keith’s face. The sun is setting outside the window of Keith’s small shack, and it paints Keith’s pale skin with oranges and reds, making his unearthly eyes even more inhumanly beautiful.

“I’m serious,” Shiro tells him, realizing with a sudden jolt that he is, he really, really is. He reaches a hand forward to brush a stray lock of dark hair off Keith’s forehead. “I want to marry you.”

“I want to marry you, too,” Keith says immediately, and Shiro smiles, his heart thumping in his chest with excess adrenaline. He bends to kiss Keith on the solar plexus, rubbing his face on the soft, worn fabric of Keith’s t-shirt. Yeah, it’s impulsive, and yeah, Keith’s still young, and heck, Shiro’s barely into his mid-twenties himself, but it just feels  _ right _ , just like everything always has with Keith.

“Great,” Shiro breathes. “Let’s do it tomorrow. We can get leave, head into town, grab Matt for a witness…”

“No,” Keith says clearly, and Shiro looks up in surprise. Keith looks nervous, biting his lip as he reads the confusion in Shiro’s face. 

_ There’s always a reason _ , Shiro tells himself even as his heart flips over in his chest, Keith never does anything without a reason. Keith already said he wanted to marry him, so it’s something else. 

“Why not, baby?” Shiro asks, forcing his tone to stay calm. It only somewhat works, if Keith’s face is any judge. 

Keith pushes at him until Shiro sits back, then pulls himself upright. His jeans are still on, but he reaches down beside the bed for his jacket and yanks it over his shoulders before pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. 

Serious, then, Shiro thinks, and something that Keith’s either unhappy about with himself, or is afraid that Shiro will take badly. Possibly both. 

“Hey,” Shiro says, reaching out slowly to cup his hand around Keith’s elbow. “It’s okay. Tell me what you’re thinking?”

Keith hesitates. “It’s dumb,” he says, and looks away, so Shiro leans in to kiss him reassuringly. It’s a nice, slow, lingering kiss with the promise of developing into more when Keith mumbles something, and Shiro pulls back.

“What? I missed that.”

“It’s because you’re leaving,” Keith says, and buries his face in his knees. 

“ _ Baby _ ,” Shiro whispers, and scoots across the bed so that he’s sitting behind Keith. He puts his knees on either side of Keith’s narrow frame, and wraps his arms around the small, still bundle that is his boyfriend desperately repressing emotions. “That’s why I want to do it. So that when I’m gone, people will still know that you’re mine.” He kisses the top of Keith’s head. “So that you’ll still know I’m yours.”

“That’s why I  _ don’t _ want it,” Keith says, and Shiro frowns, waiting. Keith exhales hard, fingers white where he’s gripping at his own arms. “I want you to have something to come back for.”

Shiro laughs, arms tightening around Keith. “I already do,” he says firmly, “I have you. I will  _ always _ come back for you.”

“I know, Shiro,” Keith says, but his voice is soft and determined. “But it just… I don’t know. It’s dumb superstition, I guess. It just feels like, if we do... that, then something might happen while you’re up there.”

“You can say it, Keith,” Shiro teases gently, “You can say that I want to marry you.”

He can practically feel Keith’s blush from where their skin touches all along their arms, but Keith gives in. “It just feels like, if we got married, then… then who knows. But if it’s something that you really want...”

“It is.”

“...if it’s something that you want, then you’ll come back for it.” Keith turns abruptly in Shiro’s loose hold, his dark eyes glittering with emotion. Shiro curls a hand around the back of Keith’s neck and brings them forehead to forehead, letting his eyes drift closed as he listens to the rhythm of Keith’s breathing. 

It’s so hard on them, this thing that’s coming up, so hard and so complex, and still so early in their romantic relationship. Sure, they’ve been friends for years now, but they’ve only been together like this for a few months, and while Shiro had never wanted to leave Keith behind when he went to Kerberos, he feels it so much  _ more _ now. He knows it’s worse for Keith, being left on his own, wanting to be happy for Shiro, knowing this is Shiro’s dream, but having it come at the cost of Keith’s own heart, Keith’s own desperate loneliness. Shiro knows all of this intimately, and he aches with it. 

“Here,” Shiro says finally, slipping a hand under the chain around his own neck. “I’m an idiot who didn’t think this through at all, but. Take these.” He slides the loop of his dog tags over Keith’s head. “A promise. Wear these while I’m gone, and when I get back, I’ll get you a ring.”

He can hear Keith’s damp inhale, but Keith just nods against him, his fingers coming up to play with the stamped metal around his neck. “Promise?” He asks finally.

Shiro kisses him hard and fast. “I  _ promise _ ,” he says.

—

Shiro wakes in a bed so familiar it hurts, his heart racing and his ears ringing. He takes careful stock of the room around him, cataloging the breathing of three individuals in the next room, of a warm weight pressed against his side. He remembers stealing the Galran ship, remembers his shaking hand putting in the coordinates for Earth; he remembers crashing to ground in the desert, shouting at the Garrison personnel about the coming threat, and then… then nothing, until now. 

His good arm twitches involuntarily, and Keith shifts in his sleep. Shiro turns his head to look at him, soaking in the way the moonlight through the open window limns his features. He looks older, his face lined with worry and sadness, his fists clutched into the remains of Shiro’s tattered shirt. 

Shiro sucks in a breath, raising a hand to trace the curl of Keith’s ear, and suddenly there are dark, luminous eyes staring right at him. The dim silvery light of the room makes them glitter, makes Shiro feel like he’s falling head-first into the deep galactic abyss. He shivers, and Keith blinks, a piece of dark hair falling into his face and breaking the spell. 

Shiro reaches up to brush it away and Keith jerks back, his face going tight and flat in a way that cracks Shiro’s heart into a million pieces.

“Keith,” he whispers, his voice creaky and sore from screaming, from  _ so much _ screaming, from screaming for so long he can’t remember when he started, so long that he’s unsure if he’s ever stopped...

“ _ Shiro _ ,” Keith chokes out, and suddenly Shiro’s there again, in Keith’s bed in Keith’s shack in Keith’s desert on Keith’s planet. “You came back.” 

Shiro’s not sure if Keith’s actually aware of the tears running down his face or not; Keith always was a silent crier, years of practiced self-defense in less-than-accommodating living situations as a child. Shiro ignores it, the smell of salt water tingling a nose that has only smelled blood and dust for so long, and slips his hand around to hook a finger under the chain that circles Keith’s neck. The tags fall into the open with a metallic clatter, a sensory explosion under the skin of Shiro’s thumb as he traces the ridges of his own name. 

“I promised,” he says, and part of his brain is still spinning, still flashing through a hundred disconnected images, a thousand moments of loss, a hundred thousand flashes of pain, but he forces his attention here, now. “You found me,” he whispers, half in awe and half in sheer amusement, because if he’s a homing beacon pointed to Keith, then Keith is the restless receiver, always scanning for his signal.

There’s a thing like a smile on Keith’s face, but it’s jagged and half-formed, like maybe Keith doesn’t know how to make one anymore.

“They said you  _ died _ ,” Keith whispers, his voice sharp, “they said it was  _ your fault, _ they said —”

“I’m here,” Shiro tells him, pulling him close. Keith comes without a fight, burying his face in Shiro’s neck, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s torso and squeezing until Shiro hisses with the pressure on his numerous bumps and bruises. Keith doesn’t let up, his whole body silently trembling, and Shiro buries his face in Keith’s hair, inhaling deeply and letting his senses flood with the one person he feared he’d never see again.

“I’m here,” he says again, as much to himself as to Keith. “I’m  _ here _ .”

—

“Do they know?” Shiro asks one night as he and Keith sit across from each other and alone in the lounge, “the other Paladins. About us, I mean?”

Keith looks at him for a moment, then shakes his head. It’s been a month, and Shiro’s still learning this older, harder Keith. He’s still learning himself, too, and it’s been… complicated, to say the least. 

“I think Pidge probably suspects that our relationship is closer than we advertise,” Keith says, staring at his hands, voice rough, “but she hasn’t asked.” He looks up, his eyes intent. “None of them have asked. I wouldn’t have lied about you, Shiro. I’m not ashamed.”

“Maybe you should be,” Shiro says, and it’s out before he can help it, the admission of his own conflicted self. He drags a hand across his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he offers, not knowing quite what he’s sorry for. It could be anything. It might be everything.

“Get up,” Keith says, and Shiro looks up to see him already standing, a stormy look on his face. “I’m not having this conversation where anyone could walk in. Come on.”

The walk back to Keith’s quarters is long and silent, and Shiro wants nothing more than to reach out and catch Keith’s hand in his own, but he resists. He doesn’t want to push up against boundaries he’s not sure of, doesn’t want to crack Keith’s brittle facade without permission.

Keith’s door hisses open and they step in, Keith crossing to stand several feet away as Shiro leans up against the wall. He feels like he’s floating, feels like he’s come unmoored. He reaches out to set his hand on Keith’s shoulder, hoping for something to ground himself, but Keith is too far out of reach. He tries to gather his thoughts, his words, but they slip away from him, so many silvery star-eyed fish sliding through his fingers.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Shiro tells Keith without preamble, “I don’t know how to be who I was. I’m trying and trying, but I still feel like I’m missing pieces of myself.”

“You’re still  _ you _ , Shiro,” Keith frowns, “they didn’t change that.”

Shiro laughs, a cracked sound that falls between them. “They  _ did _ , Keith. They took everything from me.”

Keith closes his eyes, then opens them again, his face fierce and beautiful.

“They didn’t take your life,” Keith hisses with barely restrained fury, “and they didn’t take  _ me _ .” Shiro watches as he visibly collects himself. “What do you want, Shiro?” he asks, voice quiet and shaking.

“ _ You _ ,” Shiro answers without hesitation. “I want to be with you.”

Keith’s face softens, and he steps forward, close enough for Shiro’s searching hand to find his shoulder. 

“I’m right  _ here _ ,” he says. “I’ve always been right here.”

“I didn’t know if you still wanted this,” Shiro admits, his thumb stroking at the base of Keith’s neck. “I would never hold you to anything you didn’t still want.”

Keith steps forward again, his head coming to rest against Shiro’s clavicle, his hands clutched into the front of Shiro’s vest. “There is no universe in which I don’t want you,” Keith says, and the assurance in his voice feels like it echoes through the dark matter into the fine weft of every possible reality. 

“Okay,” Shiro whispers, cradling Keith against him, “okay.”

\--

“How can I help you?” 

Coran’s in his jammies and bathrobe, his mustache bristling every which way, but his eyes as sharp and all-seeing as ever. 

“Earth culture says that captains of ships can perform certain legal rituals,” Shiro starts, and Coran’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“You were the captain of a ship, weren’t you Coran?” Keith’s voice is knowing, and Coran twists a mustache end around his fingers, eyeing them both consideringly. 

“I was,” he says, “several times, in fact. Am I correct in surmising that you are in search of someone to perform a certain legal ritual?”

“We are.” Keith clutches tighter at Shiro’s fingers as he says it, but his voice doesn’t waver. 

“And why,” Coran asks, twirling the other end of his mustache, “would you be asking me, rather than the Princess who is also the commander of this ship?”

Keith glances at Shiro, who takes a deep breath. This part is a gamble, based on speculation, but he thinks they’ve gotten it right. 

“We’d like to keep it quiet, for one thing,” he begins, “and Allura is in the Voltron meld with all of us; with three minds knowing, it would be inevitable that it would leak out.”

“But,” Keith interrupts, catching Coran’s eye, “as someone who has loved and lost, we thought you might appreciate the chance to restore lost love.”

“Ah,” Coran answers, and he suddenly looks every phoeb of his age, his eyes ancient and sad, “well, you’re right enough there, my boys. Come in.”

“I don’t know what your Earth traditions are like,” Coran says as he rifles through a drawer, his back to them, “but on Altea-that-was, it was the engagement that was the big party - actual marriages were small and intimate, and fortunately for our purposes rather quick. Aha!” He turns around, a jeweled collar settled over his striped pajama collar. “Ol’ Granpappy Wimbledon’s marrying collar! Got to have it on to do this right. Now then! Come here, boys.”

Shiro and Keith approach the center of the room, still holding hands, as Coran pours a small crystal glass full of ruby liquid, then holds it between them. “All part of the ritual,” he says, beaming, “a small sip first, then we begin.”

Shiro eyes the liquid suspiciously, but Keith shrugs and takes a sip, smacking his lips at the taste, so Shiro follows suit. It’s sweet, a delicate flavor halfway between a cherry and a plum, with a warm afterburn.

“Now then, youngest first! Keith,” Coran takes the glass from their hands and brings their palms together between them, “look Shiro in the eyes and tell him whatever you need to say.”

“Shiro,” Keith starts, and looks surprised that he’s spoken so quickly. “I love you so much I don’t know what to do with it. When you left, it felt like my whole world ended, but I never gave up on you. I  _ will never  _ give up on you. You’re my entire universe, and I’m afraid all the time that that’s too much to put on you, but I can’t help it. I never could.” He pauses for a quick breath, his hands shaking in Shiro’s, his eyes wide. “All I want is to be with you for the rest of my life, no matter how long or short that is, to be with you and take care of you. I love you, Shiro. I just… I  _ love _ you.”

Keith snaps his mouth shut, the determined jut of his chin telling Shiro everything he needs to know about how voluntary all of that was, and how true, and then Coran is turning to him.

“Shiro?” he says, and Shiro’s mouth is open before Coran’s is even closed.

“Keith,” he starts, and even though his mind goes white, he keeps talking, “Keith, I love you more than I ever realized it was possible to love someone. Every minute I get to see you, to be near you, is a gift. I know I don’t deserve the devotion you show me,” Keith starts to protest, but Coran shakes his head sharply and he subsides, “I know I don’t deserve  _ you _ , but I will spend every day of the rest of my life trying to live up to the me that you believe in. I promise to love and treasure you above all others, no matter what, forever.” 

“Do you have rings?” Coran asks briskly, and Shiro grimaces. 

“No,” he says, “I didn’t think…”

“No matter,” Coran says, and fishes in his bathrobe pocket, producing two slim bands, one black and one silver, each set with a red stone. He must’ve pocketed them earlier just in case, Shiro realizes.

“Oh, Coran, we couldn’t possibly…,” Shiro starts, and Coran makes a cutting gesture with his hand. 

“They belonged to my parents,” he says, “and I would be honored for you to wear them.”

“Coran,” Keith starts softly, “what if you want to marry? Or if you have children? Or what about Allura?”

Coran shakes his head. “Allura has her parents’ things, and I think my ship has sailed. And if somehow it hasn’t, I will still not regret giving you both these. Please,” he says, his face as sad and serious as Shiro has ever seen it, but it’s Keith who nods in acquiescence.

“Thank you,” Keith says, taking them from his hand. “The honor is ours.”

“Now then!” Coran twirls his mustache. “Keith, do you pledge to Shiro your unswerving love, devotion, and respect?”

“He already has it,” Keith says, a hint of a laugh in his voice, and slides a ring onto Shiro’s finger, “but yes.”

“Shiro, do you…” Coran starts, but Shiro just nods, taking the other ring from Keith’s hand and pushing it past his knuckle, where it sits, gleaming. They’ll have to wear them on their dog tag chains until they’re ready to announce, but seeing it on Keith’s finger brings tears to his eyes.

“Always,” he whispers, and Coran gives an audible sniff.

“I now pronounce you bound as soul partners in the eyes of galactic law,” he announces, “please solemnize your union with a kiss.”

Shiro reaches up to cup Keith’s cheek in his hand, bending down to bring their foreheads together as Keith’s eyes close. The touch of Keith’s mouth on his is a gift; a revelation; a homecoming. It’s everything he never thought he’d get to have again, and by the way Keith is trembling against him, he’s not the only one. 

“Thank you, Coran,” Keith says, and Shiro nods, throat too thick to trust with words. Coran nods once, sharply, not even wiping at the tears in his eyes as he sets a hand on each of their shoulders. 

“A pleasure,” he says, and pushes them to the door. “Now get some rest.”

There’s a shiver of guilt in Keith’s eyes as the door to Coran’s quarters closes behind them, but Shiro just shakes his head. 

“He’s allowed to grieve, and he wouldn’t want you to feel bad about it,” Shiro says, and Keith nods, expression shifting to one of gentle understanding. His hand is steady when it reaches up to cradle Shiro’s face. No one has ever touched Shiro like Keith does, he thinks, never with this perfect mix of reverence and devotion. He feels like he’s spinning, joy and disbelief chasing each other through his heart.

“No more grieving,” Keith tells him, and the look on his face is as determined as any Shiro’s ever seen on him. 

Shiro can’t help but bend to kiss him again, the rings on their fingers clicking softly. 

“No more grieving,” he answers, pulling his husband into his arms.


End file.
